


*Vol'jin/OC Written out of Desperation*

by Precociously_Tortured_Morals



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gay Sex, Had to take hold of the reins of power, Help myself because no one would help me, I UPDATED, I promise, I'll turn up the warning when it does, IT'S SLOW AT THE BEGINNING, It'll get better, It'll get mature later, M/M, Mainly Vol'jin/OC because I couldn't find very much, SLIGHT Lor'themar Theron/OC, Sex, UPDATE 4/3/16, VOL'JIN - Freeform, Was very upset, language warning, woot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Precociously_Tortured_Morals/pseuds/Precociously_Tortured_Morals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Forgive me, it's been awhile since I've been in civilization. Parties and the like, socializing even, this isn't my forte."</p><p>"And taking some odd bloke's dick is?"</p><p>I chuckled and shook my head, ignoring the deliberate jab and electing to diffuse the flame with humor. There was some truth in every joke, after all. "Oftentimes I rarely have the luxury of options. It's all a means to an end. If the Warchief propositions me for a quick fuck, am I really in a sort of position to refuse him?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my terrible fanfic! There wasn't a lot going for Vol'jin in this area, so sexually exasperated as I was, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I honestly didn't how how to begin, really. But after getting the first chapter done and over with, inspiration and production levels skyrocketed from god-knows-where! 
> 
> First chapter is essentially this video but with words: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIS4X9TTcqQ . (SERIOUSLY THIS CHAPTER IS ESSENTIALLY THAT CLIP OF VOL'JIN BECOMING WARCHIEF IN MoP, I CLAIM NO COPYRIGHT TO BLIZZARD OR WOW! IT'S JUST PUT INTO WORDS!) It really helped me, it was a template! I haven't written in a super long while and looking on really got me back into writing. Sahris is a male Blood Elf. I'm not too involved in the lore, I'm just an enthusiast! 
> 
> I don't own anything! I don't own WoW's licensed characters, I don't own Vol'jin! All I own is my OC Sahris, here and in-game.  
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was there, when the Horde in itself was changed forever. I was there for the events of Cataclysm, the discovery of lost Pandaria and of Garrosh Hellscream poisoning the Horde from the inside out.  The fighting has at last, for the most part, come to a close. The Alliance and Horde alike has gathered to decide the fate of the genocidal monster. Believe you me, I’m thrilled the quiet has descended, it’s just-

I’m a lowly commander, I have no place here. Lor’themar Theron shoots me an agitated look, a furrowing of his brows and a curt grunting for me to appear in least supportive; I straighten my back and clutch my hands tighter as Garrosh is led away to serve trial in Pandaria. Lord Theron visibly eases as the villainous shitstain departs, his shoulders slumping but not sagging, preserving his dignity as Regent Lord of Quel’thalas; I don’t envy him, nor any of the other leaders under this roof; we’ve all suffered so much at the hands of Garrosh and the very air itself has lightened, if not minutely.

 

Things aren’t wrapped up, nor do I expect them to be; not for awhile long term, and the ties between Alliance and Horde are uneasy at best. The temporary truce has dissipated into the wind. I sneer in disgust as King Varian retreats to his side and have his ears tickled by that witch he keeps at his side, and the Orcs begin closing in to secure the decision withheld behind our lines. I myself get off the column I was leaning against pensively and draw in before the elder Blood Elf could manage to raise another indignant stink against me again, siding behind him on his right.

 

 _“I know how to behave,”_ I mutter quietly, so low only he could hear and not disrupt Thrall. He bites back a bark, his lips are fighting back an outstretched smile; a witty belittling remark lies lodged in his throat to be reserved for a later time he so desperately wants to beat me over the head with but can’t, he himself has to behave. If I sneak out right after, I might be spared his terrible humor and Theron would have to live a century of a missed jab in my side.

Vol’jin and Thrall take the center, both seemingly lost as to the next course of action. Finally, the troll chieftain speaks:

“The Horde needs its true Warchief, now more than ever.”

“Yes, but it was you that held the Horde together during this madness.” Thrall quippes back, his resolve surely founded and gathering strength as he spoke on. “It was you that protected our honor.

From this day forward, Vol’jin- If you lead, I will follow.”Thrall sets his trusty warhammer to the ground and leans his weight into its handle, bowing reverently to the shadowhunter.

Vol’jin is taken aback. “I am not worthy…” He breathes shakily, his golden eyes roving about the ring and finding that the other racial leaders, in a tacit wholesome unanimity, have fallen one after another to their knees. I followed my Lord Lor’themar Theron as he first bent a knee in the whole assembly. As thoroughly removed from the political intrigue as a minor soldier could, I showed obeisance to my Warchief, -patriotic pride and wholehearted loyalty to Vol’jin of the Darkspear Trolls.

His glowing irises settled upon my form, astounded and winded, and I for a moment shared his gaze, which flicked away just as quick as it arrived. I was tempted to question it. It was curious, but I reassured myself it was simply from his reconnoiter of his newfound allegiances. Lord Theron delivered a sudden elbow in my ribs and I quickly lost my shy smile, schooling my features in a very - **civil** \- scowl back at him.

“But I will give my all. For the Horde.” Vol’jin returned the bows, his left arm slung across his scarred chest in earnest humility.

“I will speak to your Warchief!” Varian must have finished getting his dick sucked off by that wench. We were having a Horde moment, you little Human turd. Lord Theron stands me and beckons me behind him again, his one good eye watching the Human King warily with his hand at his sword. Varian wouldn’t dare try anything in Horde territory, not with all the racial leaders gathered here, unless he was foolishly keen on all-out war.

The protective wall of Orcs falls and parts to the sides as Vol’jin shoots out a challenging glare. Varian pauses. The tension is so palpable, I can feel my blood running cold, observing with baited breath. “I speak for the Horde.”The troll declares, daring his opposite, or anyone in the room to say otherwise.

Varian tenses at that, furrowing his thick brows. He seems to be chewing on that thought as he gives Thrall trepid consideration, and Thrall gives him no sign to go on other than defiance. “Very well,” He returns, the right to offer opposition to the verdict voided. “The Horde has committed heinous crimes, Vol’jin.” Said troll’s eyes narrow to slits and his fists no doubt tighten.  

The Human King ponders his sword before stabbing the ground, advancing determinedly towards Vol’jin. “But some among you fought against Garrosh’s tyranny.” As he approaches, Vol’jin slowly rises from his crouching position and stands at Varian’s eyelevel. Gods above, I have nothing but respect for Vol’jin. “For that, I am willing to end this bloodshed.” Vol’jin considers Varian as he listens, deciphering every word that fell out of his mouth, so desperate to find lasting peace.

“But know this...” Varian continues, turning aside and showing his back, his vulnerability, to Vol’jin as he goes to retrieve his standing weapon a few feet away, wrapping his fingers around its hilt. “If your Horde fails to uphold honor, as Garrosh did…” He musters up the most despicable and intent snarl I’ve ever seen. “We will end you.”

 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(End canonically, time for the fun times! :D )

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long-ass chapter. Lot's of talking, lot's of drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMAIGAWD THIS IS SO LONG. SORRY THIS IS LATE AT NIGHT, I'M TIRED. LET'S MAKE THIS QUICK. LOTS OF TALKING AND LOTS OF DRINKING IN THIS CHAPTER. REFERENCES INSERTED FROM (A MONSTER IN PARIS, UM THERE WAS ANOTHER ONE IN HERE BUT I FORGOT BUT I'M TIRED. POINT IT OUT TO ME AND WILL CORRECT THIS.) FANFICTION OF WOW, I DON'T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS BUT MY OC BECAUSE HE'S MINE AND THE WRITING. SO YEAH ENJOY AND GOODNIGHT. 3:46 AM. UGHHH.
> 
> I GOT THE PANDERN BREWS OFF OF HERE: http://wow.gamepedia.com/Pandaren_brew AND EVERYTHING ELSE IS WOW RELATED BELONGS TO WOW THAT LOOKED UP. I DON'T OWN ANYTHING, ENJOY PLZ. ALSO I'M TERRIBLE AT WRITING. AND VOL'JIN SOUNDS KIND OF OFF, SORRY. AND THERON MIGHT BE OOC, HE'S REALLY BLAND AND I NEVER DID HIS QUESTS IF THERE WERE ANY FOR HIM.

Chapter 2

The next reasonable course of action, after all the fighting and the tiresome pissing contest between the two factions, inevitably, was to break open a keg of beer, generously provided by our insistent Pandaren allies as they would have it no other, and get remarkably shitfaced. The Alliance played no small part and were heartily encouraged to stay and partake in the festivities. As Cairne Bloodhoof cheerfully mooed: “Days aplenty to fight, come and drink and enjoy the works of our hands!” I daresay he’s taken quite the liking to the Pandaren way of life.

I’m sore in places I never knew could, so I’m very much at my leisure sitting here at the outer tables and spying out the vivacious celebrators and revellers dance and stumble on the dance floor. Pandaren Ale was foreign to me and as much I detested experimenting new flavors, I swallowed my pride and my drink so as not to offend the blushing red Pandaren, settling for one of the more milder sounding brews and drinking the Lager.

I have to admit, I was expecting far worse as for its taste; the citron is not as overpowering as I thought and I don’t wish to scream for eating a lemon raw; I will concede that for all their boasting and pride in producing spirits, the Pandaren do not disappoint. I will say that the alcohol content is strong, blindingly so; I near gagged at my first swig and immediately learned my lesson; even 30 to 40 minutes in, I’ve barely made it halfway to an empty pint and I’m staving off the effects consciously with my knees going fluid.

Everything my Lord- snickers- Lor’th’ron is doing I’m trying to avoid. (I never realized how much of a mouthful his name is when drunk, they should make a game out of this.)He catches my envious spectation and grins, sauntering over exaggeratedly with those obscene waves of his hips and an intense burning in his emerald eye. I smile wryly and drip my face further in my cup, deliberately ignoring him and his shit-eating grin as he takes the seat across from me; he drunkenly pulls his body all the way under the table and struggles to command an arm to settle beneath his lightly-stubbled chin as he refuses to let up that stupid gaze.

I take another sip and cough practicably enough after nursing the same drink for about an hour before sparing him my time. “I sup’ose you’re tryin’ to come onto me as well, Regent Lor’?” I start carefully in Thalassian, sounding out each word sweetly and somehow managing to still sound adequately sober for conversation, not that I could say the same for Theron. I  His lips curl wider and reveal his pearly whites, one fel green eye twinkling in mirth as he stooped deeper into drunken amorous stupor.

He hummed in consideration, his other arm snaking across the table and stops at my resting one. “‘Mm, ‘aybe I am.” He replies, thankfully in Thalassian, as I’d prefer my private and most intimate conversations ; even inebriated, he still reflexively retains eloquence, morso even in our mother tongue. “You forget, Sahris, that our men are prettier than our women, which is unfairly denoted as coincidence.” His fingers start distractedly trailing my arms and I jolt at his intentions, my skin heating from where his fingers danced.

“”Is she divine, is it the wine?”” Lor’themar sings offhandedly and terribly off key. I laugh quietly and shake my head, my drinking partner himself too sharing in it.

“Lor’the’ron, I’ll have you know that throughout tonight’s festivities alone as I have sat in this very chair, I jest not, I have been hit on by: 3 dwarves and 3 humans, 1 draenei and 1 undead, 2 orcs, 5 pandaren and 1 worgen, 1 night elf, surprisingly, and 1 goblin.” His chair tilts back dangerously as he barks out a hearty chuckle. I roll my eyes and smile amiably at Lor’themar Theron.  

“ _ **That many**_ asked for your hand and you refused them all?” He grinned, laughter singing on his tongue. “You’ve turned to celibacy, have you, in my absence? You do not know yourself to be blessèd and yet you continue to wave them away!”

I blushed again, rolling my drink around as an excuse to do. “I have a rule of no fooling around with anyone less than 4’5. One dwarf was male and was a _smidgen_ **taller** than 4’5 exactly but I had to explain I preferred mine clean-shaven. I was not expecting a Goblin, that was new.”

We shared a light giggle and Theron toyed with his pulled back cascade, seemingly preoccupied in searching for and eradicating split ends from his flawless golden sheen. “So, none of the ‘stunted’ variety.” His gaze darted inquisitively upwards again, his fingers still attending to combing his shimmering locks. “What of the rest? A Night Elf and a Draenei, you said? Very curious.”

“The Pandaren Ale has power to make us all forget our loyalties, I suppose. Unless…” I shook my head. I was going to suggest that to some it was a mere guideline, a flexible law decidedly ignored should opportunity arise. No, that was incorrect. My elongated ears faltered from on high, drooping as I shied away again.“Before them came Humans, which I easily dealt with. Funny, they were just as the dwarves, one male and two female. Strange, don’t you think? Does it mean something, that number and order?”

“Very queer, I’m sure.” Lor’themar Theron cut curtly, glaring. I cleared my throat and apologized for my digressing.

“Yes, well, the Draenei,” I repeated, collecting my sobering thoughts. I had forgotten my drink entirely during our little discussion and the haze had all but cleared in the meantime, and Theron’s judgement had started to gain stronger hold, hence the return of his succinct and pragmatic nature. “He was, handsome, (Draenei are a very handsome people), and he was sweet. Sweet as in the nurturing protector-fashion, well-deserved as the Paladin he was, but I had to kindly let him down. An Undead tried, erm, -her- hand, and that was nipped in the bud. I’d rather think the Forsaken should keep to their - **kind** -, as they say.”   
  
“Duly noted.” The Regent Lord nodded in agreement.

“The Humans call it ‘necrophilia’ and consequences vary on the range of freshness by corpse, but could it be rightly classified as-”

“ **Duly noted, Commander Sahris**!” He barked, his unscathed eye flashing darkly and ears standing pointedly above his crown. His voice cut through the immediate commotion and raised alarm of the nearest tables, sparing us no shortage of strange looks. Lord Theron countered with an equally peeved glare for the onlookers for imposing in our discussion and successfully turned them away. He growled as he noticed his ale drained so I slid over mine, smiling sheepishly as apology enough.

He then took a swig and found it satisfactory, raising his brows as impatient permission. “Then these five beautiful Pandaren girls slithered up and started fawning, one of them the red that served me. Normally, I would eviscerate whosoever foolish to touch my hair-”

“Likewise.”

I nodded, taking hold of his empty cup and clinking it against my near-empty one he was drinking. “-but honor would never allow courseness of any sort to a lady. And I think they were quintuplets-” Lord Theron promptly choked. I smirked as he frowned, guzzling the contaminated backwashed Lager. “They were very fine young ladies and they had much to offer but I sadly turned them down for the same reason I disappointed the Worgen: No rugs. And I’m sure every position with a Worgen would be doggy. I’m positive the red dumpling cried after they walked off, I could hear faint sniffles. I do feel bad about it.”

He finished the wheat-infused citron brew and ran a hand through his hair, staring back incredulously. “Your problem is that you’ve too high standards for who and what comes along and prostates themselves in your path. A man can’t be picky!” He exhales through his teeth noisily, frowning forlornly at his now empty pint. “I’m Regent Lord of Quel’Thalas and I’ve been outclassed by a wandering commander! It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is! A near dozen or so prospective partners **_dying_** to get a Blood Elf in bed with them and you disregard every single one! Unbelievable!”

I shake my head and chuckle as he stands, wobbly but eventually stabilized. “Shall I wait to tell you the rest of the ‘raunchy details’ until you return? What, about three dances and two pints later?”I crooned, waving my empty cup.

He hissed keenly but acquiesced to my request, spitting like a cobra curses in Thalassian as he walked off into the droning sound and dizzying motion of the hall. I could feel the last of the effects of alcohol starting to ebbing away, casting a purification spell so good measure. A fresh wind filled my lungs for the first time since the beginning of this midnight revelry, puffing my chest with deep intakes to chase after the beloved clarity. I ran my fingers through my amber tresses as my breath steadied and calmed, settling for sitting back to observe and wait for Lor’themar Theron to return high-spirited with spirits.

I wrinkled a blonde brow. I had noticed that on the adjacent side of the room predominantly occupied by Horde before things got hazy, and with my renewed lucidity, I realized that the same hardened glares never left. I swallowed thickly and wished I saved the prop, now feeling uncomfortably coveted by the entirety of the other side of the room. That sounds incredibly unlikely and wistful, I know, but it’s the truth. Their gazes are unblinkingly concentrative and attentive to my table and frankly, it’s very disconcerting to say the least.

“What’s with that look? You like like you’re about to shit a hernia.” Oh thank the gods, Theron’s back. His head is cocked to the side with his features creased in confusion, holding both refilled with the mellow Lager we both savored from earlier. I took the proffered pint and downed it, gagging at sharp sting of the beverage and setting the cup down.

“Whoa there, slow it down!” He exclaimed, reaching over and applying pressure to my back. I nodded him my thanks and took a smaller drink. The status effect I chanted earlier counteracted the dimming of the Lager and I cursed, it did nothing for my nerves. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

I nodded again, weakly, and turned all the way in to the table. “Yeah, peachy…” I said quietly into my pint. He was going to pursue further, I know he wanted to, but wisely said nothing more.

“There were 2 orcs that tried their hands next.” I broke the small window of dragged on silence. Lord Theron smiled into the rim of his cup, merriness returned and indulged back into my pointless anecdote.

“Orcs? They must have been feeling very courageous indeed to dare approach a Blood Elf, no doubt under the influence of the brews.” I snickered at that. “They have good taste, I will admit, but they couldn’t have gotten far. What happened?”

“Well, that was just it…” I swirled a twig I found atop the table in my drink quietly. “They were right in my field of vision, I’m talking a good **_five_** feet away from me, and they did nothing. They were going to come up and ask, but I feel like they were hindered in some from actually reaching their goal.”

“So they got cold feet, nothing profound about that.” The elder Elf replied disinterestedly, taking a swig of his drink. I wasn’t going to tell him what I saw. “Perfectly natural when approaching a Blood Elf as pretty as you.”

I bit my bottom lip to prevent further unbidden blushing. “Yes, I suppose it could be. The Night Elf that offered made up for the disappointment prior. He was beautiful and I looked past the facial hair just this once, it truly added to his charm and I don’t think I’d spare him another thought had he been baby-faced.” I earned a chuckle from the Regent Lord and continued. “He smelled of virility and his eyes said ‘dance’. He wasn’t shitfaced but he was not without some help from the stronger ales; all he wanted, apparently, was a dance partner and I settled.  I knew he wasn’t in his right mind, nor was I, and without the liquor we would have never found ourselves tangled in numbed limbs and drunkenly waltzing.”

“Why the Night Elf?” Theron eyed me in a cold and calculating manner, mouth still on the rim. “Why him out of all the suitors that approached you tonight? You know he’s Alliance.”

My face was burning, sweat accumulating uncomfortably under my brow from his scrutinization and the swaying room. “I liked his skin and his beard. And I’ve taken worse-for-wear. I was quite surprised myself. I’m never usually as choosy as I was tonight but I suppose with all the options proffered to me, I lost sight of the desire for a quick fuck.”

His lips curled into a snarl, a brief flashing of teeth, but made no motion to strike. I couldn’t stop the idiotic smirk carving its way onto my face. “Is the Regent Lord of Quel’Thalas jealous of a mere foot soldier’s choice of bedmates? Is that what this is about?”

“ **YES!** ” He barked. “You blind fool, I’ve been trying all night and you most efficiently and obliviously cock-block me at every turn!”

I burst out into full-fledged and unbridled laughter. Theron turns beat red and demands that I cease that noise and he doesn’t want a scene, but too bad, I howl even harder. It took several moments to calm down and get any last giggles out of my system before I could regard him. “Here I was, moping at the curious absence of any dignified lovely Blood Elf women and I find that the one scaring them all off is a shark with an eyepatch and luscious hair!” He growled threateningly and I sighed in mellow deflation.

“Yes, I explicitly ordered my ranks not to approach you so I could have you all to myself. I simply imbibed in too much wine and forgot all about it until you refreshed my memory.” He fumed hotly.

I smiled softly at him before taking another drink. “I’m just a lowly nameless officer of the Horde. I have no actual residence, I crash at an inn when I stumble upon one in the wilds, I essentially live on the road and help whatever town I wander into. How’s any of these things attractive facets?”

He slams both fists onto the table, causing the surface to protest fiercely. “You blind fool! Do you really not know your worth? Do you not realize that without your immediate presence that Garrosh would still be in charge and riding us into the ground? You fearlessly journeyed to a strange land and helped solidify trust of the Pandaren, and you personally assisted in the overthrowing of Garrosh and his forces! How the hell can you still think lesser of yourself?!”

I pondered him for a long while before shrugging, unaltered. “I did none of those things seeking songs or praises. The Horde demanded relief and I answered its call. It’s one of the more beautiful aspects of death, that it’s omnipresent and a fact of life. There’s no great thinking. All I did my duty; nothing more, nothing less.”

He sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped uncharacteristically, stressfully tangling his locks. “Sahris, we owe you our **_lives_**. You’ve saved us time and again and asked for nothing in return. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

I regarded him silently, pursing my lips in disappointment. I downed the entirety of my drink, the barring enchantment worn off and nothing was stopping me from discovering the pleasant numbing. “I don’t live for your thanks, Ther’ron.” I slurred, relishing the inebriation overcoming my better senses. “I live to serve the Horde another day.” I removed myself from the table one limb at a time, knocking over the flagon and having t clatter noisily to the floor as I slowly rose to my unfounded feet.

“Where are you off to?” He asked, standing from his chair as well and rounding the table to my side.

“I’ve had enough partying for a good while. I’m turning in…” I muse decidedly, putting one foot in front of the other to leave the hall.

“Turning in where? I’m not going to let you lie down in the streets while you’re like this. Please tell me you’ve checked in one of the inns. The Valley of Strength is closest.” He wraps his arms up and under my shoulders for support. I can feel my heart pick up the pace at the touches but I am adamant, clumsily then trying to pry his fingers off my robe. His grip is stronger and more coordinated and remains attached to my being. I sigh and recast the purification chant, allowing my senses to sadly defog.

Lord Lor’themar Theron relinquishes his possessive hold. He knows that this was better than nothing and wouldn’t have to further submit himself to wrecking vexations over whether I made it into an inn for the night. “There, now you’re missing out on being my escort.” I coo and smooth out my clothes.

He wrinkles his nose haughtily but smiles in the end. “I’ll live.” I give him a wave and wish him a merciful and swift hangover come morning, but he rejects my well-wishing. “The drinks will keep coming and they’re on your head! If you weren’t so pretty, I would have made you pay long ago!” That is our friendship in a nutshell. I chuckle and we both wave before I fully exit the building and start trudging to the inn I had made my home for the evening.

\---

Lor’themar Theron had brought back another round of drinks of spirits, stronger and headier ones, the Bravery Brew to name one. He should have been drinking this one the entire night when he was with the younger elf, curse his affability. He might have actually had a chance, he should have filled his companion’s cup with a different liquor. He sat there growling and damning the other as his reasons for drinking himself to respawn and ruining his current liver, but there’s nothing a Priest or Shaman or Innkeeper can’t solve.

Oh wait. _Priest. Innkeeper._ “Damn you.” He grumbled, tossing back the Drunken Master’s Secret Tonic like it was water and moved on fluidly to the next. He was so engrossed in spending the rest of his night making love to his tonic and gin that he hadn’t heard the sliding against the floor and the occupying of the chair next to him.

“Regent Lord.” came the smooth and baritone voice, catching Theron’s attention. He turned to his right and straightened up, putting down his flagon.

“Warchief Vol’jin.” The Blood Elf acknowledged respectfully, switching his tongue back to Common. What was he doing here? Was he needed?

The troll chuckled and pushed the pint back into Theron’s reach. “Don’t stop on my account, Lor’themar.” The Blood Elf briefly pondered his chief before raising his brew back to his lips. “I did not come to meddle with your celebratin’. I could not help but wonder, who was your drinkin’ partner?”

Lor’themar Theron was puzzled at the request, furrowing his long brows. It was strange, but he would not deny what Vol’jin asked. “Commander Sahris, sir. May I ask why, Warchief.”

The shadowhunter gave him no explanation and no decipherable expression to go on, considering the answer the Regent Lord’s response. “No reason at all. I wanted to thank the champion but neveh got a chance to.” He shook his head, his impressive mounted train of wood and skulls clattering as he moved. “You have a good night, Theron.”

**  
**Lor’themar muttered something unintelligible back to his Warchief, but was lost in translation as he buried himself in his spirits.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, more boring stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, more boring stuff. No sex yet, that will be in the next chapter. Sorry for the lack of sex, I realy can't write a scene without a prelude to the action leading up. SEX WILL BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. Oh yeah, there is a reference here. [Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed], yeah that part is a nod to this girl in my theater class that called me this after she was done applying my makeup for a role I played on the last performances. I'm honoring her this way. Thank you, bless her.

Chapter 3

 

Had I not been of the casting-dependent classes it would have proved to be an increasingly more aggravating ordeal scaling the expanse that Orgrimmar was. It’s who-gives-a-fuck-A.M., fucking early as fuck, and my inn is up a plateau, along with my flying mounts cooing soundly in the stables. I know there’s a lift building nearby, and I can safely assume some mischievous runts decided to tease the _**extreme inconveniencing**_ of extinguishing the mainroad torches would be excused from investigation due to city-wide celebration, so I must have missed the elevator by now.

Or, the torches were snuffed out _**officially**_ ; were that be the case, I would raise not so much as a squawk of objection, but that seems unlikely. In all my years of venturing to the Horde’s capital, not once have I seen them quenched. Of course, then again, historically, a race other than Orc ascending to the position of Warchief is unheard of; they might have decided to change things up in accordance for tonight, but this is very unsafe. _It’s because I’m a god-damned Priest I haven’t plummeted to my doom of blindly scaling this path etched into the hillside_ ; I had cast ‘Levitate’ so I wouldn’t break my neck after falling off, and only still be at the same task several times later.

Only when I reach the top and take in the view of the silenced valley below, I realize that the contentious spirit and rugged survivalist do-or-die mentality that carved out a city in the badlands of Azeroth was contentedly sedated, if only for one night. And yet, for all that effort of scaling the accursed height, regardless of how magnificent the view is, I simply could have bothered to reach into my satchel and use my hearthstone and teleport instantaneously to the inn a few ways further away from the edge. I was fuming, but I suppose the rare sight at the end of the road was worth it.

_A hundred years ago when I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on my first time out of Silvermoon, I beheld the same glorious, and largely untouched, Orgrimmar that I am seeing today._

I take a deep breath, one of fresh recycled crisp night desert air and not of intoxicating sweltering coagulated air, and release; exchange the automatic loosening and tightening of my lungs like the clockwork that function truly is and fill them to the brim, then allow my shoulders to hang as they have been liberated of the very near indomitable tribulations I have endured. I feel light; in the poetic sense, I don’t feel the weight of my armor weighing me down; in the nihilistic sense, I feel as if I’ve been severed from gravity entirely and is now adrift most precariously; in the existential sense, I know that destiny has abandoned me atop a precipice and I can’t see to the bottom of the abyss nor to the next beacon of light.

In the realistic setting, I wanted to scream. I would scream loud and raw; I would scream until rendered mute; I wouldn’t stop screaming before every organ had been expelled out every orifice from my body; I wanted to scream. My vocal chords were warmed and primed, itching to loose the burnt putrid mass boiling in the depths of my visceral soul; every fiber in my being was supercharged with electricity, all I had to do was give the word. I filtered out the breath I was holding on to through my nostrils and shuddered, instinctively encircling my frame as I lingered atop the plateau for a little while longer to compose myself.

I realized how much time had elapsed and cursed my inherent frailty for wasting more of my time, and made my way towards the only lit building benevolently illuminating direction atop the mesa. I parted the torn and dilapidated tarp that once proudly bore our mark, now reduced to serving as the boned-threshold’s would-be doors, the cloth’s fluttering the only announcement to my appearance. I fought the inclination to gawk at the interior and resisted the temptation to touch the tanned skin and ivory and wood and sparse decorations that made the inner parlor, resolutely keeping my vision tied to the table set before the other entrance I knew the innkeeper would soon emerge from and did.

I was wise for not poking around, for the innkeeper was a matron Orc; battle-hardened, unyielding, and bad-tempered, and far more dangerous when with child. "Aka'Magosh,” I bowed respectfully before offering her a greeting in Orcish, daring not to initiate eye contact. I have made it habit to extend a peace offering in reference to whomever I speak when I greet them, as a certain one-eyed elf advised me when I departed Silvermoon; My findings have time and again proved that such sagacity has been indispensable in my travels.

She revered me callously for a moment before replying in Common, “Well met.” The lady of the house hoisted her wee suckling in a better position for it to continue latching and for her not to lose grip. “The hour is late and there are no more rooms,” She said gruffly, obviously miffed at being woken up. “There is nothing for you here, traveler, unless you wouldn’t mind settling for the stables out back.”

I wasn’t going to press my luck any further with the matron, hoping to wrap things up quickly here. “Ah, no madam, I have my reservation note with me. It’s room number 5, all I require is the key.” I flashed the note I had at the ready and handed it over to her green-tinted claw.

She hummed for a bit as she verified the ordinances and agreements before stamping a red terminating mark. “Everything’s in order, master Sahris.” She switched arms that cradled her child as she reached around and swiped the suspended key off its respectful rung and handed the key over. She was mumbling under her breath and became more irritated as she did. “Sahris, Sahris, Sahris, Sahris Sahris…”

“Is everything alright? Madam?” I inquired, curious as to why she was wracking her brain all because of my name.

“Ohhh, that’s right! No wonder that name sounded familiar; a package arrived earlier addressed to your lodgings.” She gestured to her baby, then smacked her own head as if that little piece of information was so obvious that she had forgotten all about it. I offered her a sympathetic smile and waved the matter away as if it were wind. It’s annoying, mismanaging the stationary and all, but I had worn myself out and had no more fight left in me. I turned on my heels and started for the door to the mailbox outside, which was all for naught when the innkeeper raised her voice.

“‘Addressed to your lodgings’ as in **ADDRESSED TO YOUR LODGINGS**. As in, not in the mailbox!” She screeched as she covered her child’s ears with one large green palm. I cringed at the sharp outburst, hissing through clenched teeth. I was dead tired and aching and my patience hanging by a mere thread. I released my clenched fists and the breath I was holding, and started towards the interior of the inn and started ascending the rungs of the ladder. Once at the top of the second floor I regarded the matron Orc a cordial goodnight parting before starting down the small hallway.

The inn in itself was small, and the top floor seemed burdened by the handful of rooms squished together in close proximity perched atop the insufficient base structure. Aside from the seemingly unsound construction, drawing-up schematics and engineering for the Horde is micromanaged  by Goblins and left to the Orcs for the actual building; the short green midgets make some nervous for their affinity for pyrotechnics and scrappy little gadgets, but they do ensure that all buildings are structurally sound by using pentagons.

I reached my room relatively quickly and jammed the key into its the lock, the sandblasted wooden door parting with an unoiled whine. I forced myself to ignore the painful ringing in my ears from all the shrill unholy pitches intensified product of sleep deprivation and superficial relief from hangover. I sighed quietly as I fell back onto the bed and relished the feeling of a soft mattress instead of a ragged bedroll. Sleep was knocking at the door and I was half-tempted to give in to the comforting luxuries that was surrounding me but I knew my spine would never let me hear the end of it in the morning, hence deciding to entertain self-control for a little while longer and slowly strip away the articles of my armor.

I undid the clasps to my pauldrons first, which clattered to the floor with a dull thud; I thank the spirits that Priest armor is only cloth, not some odd 50-pound metal assemblage. After I got the shoulder guards out of the way, the rest of my attire came off easily; I only complain for the amount of layer upon layer that come with the vocation. Before long, the last long one-piece was up and over my head and my upper was exposed to the night air, breathing out appreciatively to the freeness of fair-skinned flesh to the calming atmosphere. I bent over and slipped off my boots, kicking them all the way to the door. The smell the footwear obscured was unpleasant to say the least, quickly rectifying the problem by casting ‘Purification’; if one has magical abilities, then I say abuse them as much as you want; magic is practical on and the field. Last came off the gauntlets, those I set on the night table on my right; then set to the miscellaneous leather wrappings adorning my arms, meticulously uncoiling each one and folding them longwise twice before setting them down with my gloves.

I eyed the remaining form-flattering pants hugging my hips and tested the elastic stretch, the fabric immediately snapping back to my pelvis. It wasn’t that I was ashamed; ashamed of where I was or if I was overheard by the other guests, no, I am very vocal regardless of circumstances, whether it be alone or with a bedmate or several and an entire legion slumbering next-door; company never mattered to me when it came between me and one of the few pleasures in life I allowed myself to have. I stood from the berth and padded over to the crook’d window open ajar that night air filtered through, shutting both sides and latching the lock. One, it was cold at night in Orgrimmar, so that killed whatever mood I might have worked myself into; and two, I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.

My hairs stood atop my arms as I began walking away from the other extremity of the room and I straightened my back rigidly. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t, nor had I ever been, alone in the suite. I calmed my frightened chest and urged my heart to steady, rounding the side of the room to the right side of the bed and sat down before I reached for my staff resting at the foot of the bed. I took great care to make no sudden movements and simply cradled my staff close to my chest; the intruder had become one with the specters in the room, so there would be very little reason the summon for the lights. Call me familiar with that tone, but I possess a very similar ability when I phase into the specialization Shadow.

I smoothed over hair and settled my hands into my lap, leaning heavily into the staff. “Any chance I might be allowed a final request before my throat is slit?” Sure, Resurrection is the universal safety-net, Death-death is essentially non-existent, save for a fractional chance you don’t get another shot, but I can’t stop being my painfully agreeable self even in the face of peril.

My ears perked up at the unmistakable accent that decorated the chuckle I received. “You’re a stoic one.” The voice chided playfully. My fel green eyes brightened, a motion reflexive and uncontrollable analogous to pupils dilating.

“You are a troll… You can hide behind the cover of dark, but you cannot conceal is that distinctness.” I say plainly, keeping my gaze low and body confined to the bed. The entire room was covered with pressure-sensitive articles, so I knew the perpetrator wouldn’t risk ambulation.  The next chuckle sounded warm and amused.

I took this as an invitation to continue, despite my nerves being eaten away at the suspense. “And a Shadowhunter at that, meaning you’re one of the hand-picked of Vol’jin’s men… Priest and Shaman didn’t fit your skill set, so naturally you’d be a Shadowhunter.”

I felt the bed dip and creak beneath the newcomer’s weight. “How discernin’’ of ‘ya.” My heart was palpitating obscenely loud in my ears, my whole body was balancing at a knife’s edge on a moral decision of injected adrenaline: irrationality or perseverance; Should I see this through to the end or should I listen to every instinct in my body for continuation? I can feel the entity mere inches from my own being, yet my eyes would betray nothing.

  
There was a shift in the atmosphere, a breeze in the stale air. I dared open my eyes, still holding my staff fast, timidly, one at a time. I released a stunted breath, my lungs burning from the imposed anticipation, and I could not fight the creeping flush rising up my neck and the reddening of my cheeks. “‘Chief?” I barely choked out, my body rendered unresponsive for all present intents and purposes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY WELL SHIYET I'VE RETURNED A YEAR LATER. BECAUSE I WAS HORNY. AND I WAS GOING THROUGH SOME TORTUROUS SHIT IN ME HEAD AND Y'KNOW WHAT, I'M ONLY UPDATING BECAUSE I NEED TO FINISH WHAT I START FOR ONCE.
> 
> WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, SEX, GAY SHIT, ANGST. YEH.
> 
> My kuschelbär Nobo Bisharp (who isn't on this site) collaborated with me and helped me write this sorry excuse for writing, porn, words, and overall thought process. And he prolly didn't like doing it but y'know what, I love you and thank you Honigbär I love you. 
> 
> Update (1:15 Am) Nobo tells me he loved/liked doing it with me. 
> 
> What. The. Actual. Fuck. Nobo. Dis be gay nasty shit, mon. Don't pull the Rapey Mickey Mouse voice on me, you little shit, I will touch you in obscene places. Yeah, that's right. Slurpslurpslurp. Love you, Kuschelbar. 
> 
> Also, yes, double entendre intended. ;)
> 
> Anyways, from here on out, thar be SEXXX.  
> 

Chapter 4

 

 

“C-Chief?” My tongue was in a tangle and all higher mental processes disintegrated with that single word. My long golden tresses clung uncomfortably to my cold-sweated skin and I absolutely itching to put it up, get it away from me and have nothing touch my electrified nerves. _Do something, anything._ I wanted to squirm beneath my Warchief’s petrifying aureate gaze but I couldn’t find the strength to do that, much less raise objection or retreat when he extended a tri-fingered blue hand towards me.

 

He must have felt the involuntary shudder as he gently traced along my cheek. I clenched my jaw and swallowed thickly as his eyes hardened, silently cursing my the break of my trained dispassionate visage and wondered how much he saw betrayed in my luminous jades. His taut body jerked as he cocked his head, firm muscle bouncing and wood and bone rattling. “You fear me, Commander?” He asked softly, both his question and raised paw hanging in the air.

 

My face was set aflame, so soon followed the rest of my body, but his large palm was the cooling night breeze I needed. I was being spoken to, and Warchief was expecting an answer. “No sir.” My steeled focus never once leaving his features. His face crinkled as he gave an amused smile as he continued to glare at me with his yellow tinted, predatory eyes that pierced my mortal shell and beyond.

 

He continued to stare at me, like a goblin toying with a bomb beneath blast-proof goggles, scrutinizing my features with an almost scientific coldness and curiosity. “Not afraid, you say?” His voice lowered several decibels as mirth infiltrated. “Then why do you _reek_ of it, Commander Sahris?” His accent deepened and carried a weight that held a foreboding promise that sent shockwaves down my spine.

 

Despite myself, my current predicament, and my own body’s traitorous reactions, I still found something amongst this all impossibly amusing and curled my lips. “It’s not everyday that I receive such high-ranking company, even in my personal quarters no less.” Then came an unintelligible shift in his expression, as well as the agonizingly-slow straightening of his hunched stature for desired intimidation effect, that made me more keenly aware of my unfavorable position and hopelessly dwarfed beneath eight imposing feet of an irate Troll.

 

Damn it all, Lor’themar Theron was right about how my mouth would get me in trouble and I was in its hungry maw. The Regent Lord couldn’t bail me out, nor could my absentee brother. Strange that I was thinking of him at all.  

 

A growl filled my ears and I soon found myself tackled harshly to the furred berth, with two solid legs pinning my sides and a defined weight hovering above my middle. His head was bowed low and his lengthy tusks tickled and grazed my chest with his autonomous intakes. I swallowed thickly as one of his spidery limbs reached over and detached his impressive wooden train, casting it overboard without a care to the clattering, and exhaled a heated breath. “I don’ want ‘ya thinking of anyone else but me,” He sighed in my ear with his virile canines straddling my neck, dangerously close to a jugular vein.

 

I barely acknowledged his words and only became vaguely aware of motion circulating around and actively interacting with me. I closed my eyes and settled into the furs, filtering fresh air through my nostrils as calmly as possible to avoid further unwanted attentions and downplay my fear. _This was what the Warchief wants,_ I repeated as a mantra in my skull. _It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s never mattered- It’s what_ **_he_ ** _needs and what_ **_he_ ** _wants_.

 

Two calloused fingers snapped and pried at my elastic trousers, breath hitching as blunt black fingernails scratched at my jutting hoary hips. I instinctively opened my legs to his explorations, to which he was about to command me to do so and beat him to it- He wanted to comment but restrained himself, the unnamed flash in auriferous pools carried away by the waves and forgotten.

 

“No,” He stops, and my brows wrinkle in confusion as I watch him sit up on his knees. His grin widens, all pearly white against the cover of darkness,as he abandons my body entirely and undos  the leather thongs of his loincloth.

 

I held my breath to calm what was left of my nerves and a small gasp leaves my throat as something distinctively masculine assault my senses and fills the air. My mouth goes dry and my breath comes in shaky erratic gulps as my sensitive racial faculties are overwhelmed by his domineering _male_ scent. “So the rumors be true,” He chuckled as he dragged his massive cobalt cock across my firm stomach and observed my jolted reaction. “Blood Elves be more responsive but I’d rather hear it comin’ from your mouth. What would you say on de matter?”

 

I clench my eyes shut and croak, “Y-Yes, it’s all true, sir.”

 

He hummed darkly and made slow deliberate circles with his heavy manhood, smirking while I made trivial squirming movements. “That not be a good enough answer, Commander,” I whimpered when I felt its soft pink head leaking and being smeared across my pasty expanse. “I not be an Elf so you need to explain it to me, in full detail.”

 

My insides were in tangles and my head was full of mire, my will and narrowed focus unraveling by the second at the seams. I tried to steady my lungs and find an object in the room to center my attention but every attempt defaulted to the feral red-headed Warchief looming above me predatorily. “I-It’s all so hazy, I can’t…”

 

“‘Den try harder, Commander Sahris.” His free hand left its possessive grip on my pelvis then gently cupped my clothed bottom and squeezed. “You ‘ave never let da Horde down before; I know you won’t let me down.”

 

My mental faculties and ego, as well as my desire to please and my inability to formulate a response, were now at war with each other. Still, I somehow managed to conjure up some words. “We- ah- higher olfactory senses, an-and,” The incessant circulated throbbing made my tongue go numb. _We will submit to whomever is in charge_ , I wanted to say but simply hissed between my teeth instead. “-ears are pretty good but we have poor eyes- fel, an-and all that- an-and the other magicks have made us vulnerable towards _any_ kind of stimulation…”

 

The Troll grinned and nodded understandingly at my explanation, deeming what little coherence it conveyed acceptable and filed it away, much to my own horror, for future use. The lecture was interesting and all, but there were more important things to take care of. “Take ‘dis off.” He commanded, voice rumbling and husky, and fiery eyes burning into my soul. “Let me get a good look at ‘ya.”

 

My mouth fills with saliva and my facial muscles tense as would in prelude to regurgitation but I obey his orders, calling upon every last morsel of strength within my core to soothe my anxiety and train my remaining focus upon my partner for the night, curling my legs as I slip the adhesive trousers smoothly and off my ankles. Every muscle adorning the Troll’s sturdy flexed and his engorged member leapt in bated breath. He licked his lips and a little of his white war paint became smudged.

 

I dug my teeth into my tongue and let the pain receptors ring, which only coaxed my chilled penis to warmer places and then make acquaintance with the much more imposing member occupying residence. A blunted claw ran down and teased the flushed length, chuckling softly at my elicited gasps as he traced the ribbed phallus and pinched the violet withdrawn head.

 

He never abandoned my expression and I concluded he had some concerns condensing in his strategian mind. I wasn’t in the mood to fuck but he got me up, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t see this through or starts talking and get me to talk. I release my vice grip on the skinned furs, fold my hands under my bottom, and spread myself for him unabashedly, retaining adamant eye contact. My neutral unfazed expression could have been seen as a challenge, as it would make sense for the Troll’s prolonged delighting in my contorting visage, but narrowed his orbs to slits.

 

“Say sometin’, mon, before you won’t be able to say anytin’ at all,” His seizing paws engulfed my narrow hips and he spared me one last warning look, before receiving my answer in a silent blink and sheathing himself inside me in one fluid motion.

 

My sealed pearly gates flushed open and I groaned at the searing pain from the sudden break-in of my ass. The first thrust was the strongest, fiercest bolt of raw power that blew all previous encounters out of the water and shot my lungs into oblivion.The Shadowhunter loosed a feral howl and wasted no time taking his wondrously warm and wet plunder, his powerful sinewy hips snapping mercilessly against my cheeks into the furs.

 

My eyes rolled back in my skull and lolled my head to the side. All my proud formal rigidity was left at the foot of the bed and forgotten under our disposed articles of clothing, and melted into the heat and feeling of my Warchief. His breaths heaved with lust and pleasure, whereas mine sighed at short-changed intermittences, and our shared recycles melded as one.

 

Everywhere and everything was Him, filling me up impossibly full, and damn if I didn’t like a good fuck. It felt good, great, better than great, damn fine skippy and mind blowingly amazing, Warchief inside me and taking what he damn well pleased. I fold my arms over my eyes and smile. His attentions are more than what I deserve and I’m more than happy to serve my Chief and faction.

 

I hadn’t readily noticed the utter stilling above me and briefly wondered why he had paused, dread soon pervading that the Warchief was disappointed with my performance, so I circled my hips and clenched my stuffed puckered muscle around his still-hard member. “ _Sahris_ ,” His voice rumbled, with a pair of hands gently picking apart my arms and setting them back at my sides. What was with that face, such forlorn tenderness in his saffron eyes? “You are crying.”

 

“N-No sir, I’m not, it’s merely- **No** , I do not…” My limbs scramble for my face, to wipe away my shame and abomination, but they are held fast.

 

“ _Sahris_ ,” He repeats again and dips forward, his prick riding deeper into my cavern and I flutter my eyes; I know he can feel it as well but restrained himself from giving in, for only a facial muscle twitched in accord; and the genuine concern redirected at me is uncomfortable. _I don’t want your solicitude; I don’t need it and I don’t deserve it._ _Just please, no no no._ “Stop wit dat. And it’d be alright to cry,” He thumbed away the damp streaks and cradled my face. “It don’t make you any less strongeh, you emotionally repressed Elf.”

 

_“But, I’m not…”_

 

“No other butts, I’m already plunged balls deep in da one I want.” My features flush red at the cherry-on-top salacious grin he shoots me and gives a shallow thrust to remind me of his intimate position. “And yes, you ahr. Any othah Blood Elf or Hordie would fight me off tusk and nail, even if I am their Warchief- but your general apathy is cause for my concern. You ahr an excellent warrior and Champion of da Horde, and yet you neveh take off your armor when dere is no battle to be fought. My point is, Commander, is dat you don’t live for yourself.”

 

“And what of it?” I sneered. “Where’s the harm in accommodating my Warchief?” I added with not-so-hidden irritation in my voice. “After all, today was your inaugural appointment and it’s evident that you sought me out for a private celebratory after-party,- and really, sir, it’s an honor to be of service to you. It _is_ your day, after all.”

 

 

**

 

“Oh for the Loa, Sahris..." The Troll sighed tiredly as he caressed my cheeks fondly then eased himself closer, taking great cares with his whetted sharp tusks, and kissed me deeply. My eyes widened and shuttered closed, all bold audaciousness went out the window and my entire body was rendered paralyzed. I moaned pitifully into the kiss and opened my mouth for his inquisitive tongue to dart and flick inside, warmth and pleasant titillations strumming and permeating each nerve like stringed instrument that awakened a long-buried dormancy and unfamiliar sensibility in my soul. He made an appreciative rumble in his throat when I tentatively began to join him and I earned a few free fortuitous thrusts from the awkward angle that I unashamedly moaned at.

 

He retracted from the kiss and I made an indecent whine at the loss of his tongue, panting hungrily for more. “See now, dat wasn’t so very hard, was it?” He smiled softly and petted my disheveled silky tresses. I nuzzled into his touch, mewling quietly. “Sahris, you **do** deserve this,” He whispered as he kissed both of my eyes before softly kissing my mouth again. I wanted to shake my head and scream at him but he gingerly shushed my mouthed _no no no no_. “You do deserve this and you do deserve love.”

 

Tears welled and stung my eyes and escaped. The lethargy and numbness that seeped to my very marrow burned and my mind was a whirlwind of tumult and colliding warm fronts; I felt small and big, both entirely unprepared for this onslaught of emotions and somehow not. “ **_I love you_ ** , _Sahris_ , **_and I have always loved you_ ** _._ ” He says in Darkspear and brushes my tears away before continuing in Common. 

 

“Even when I first saw you in Orgrimmah, a low-level unheard-of priest eager to serve da’ Horde, I thought you pretty but your mettle untested. As reports streamed in and your praises be sung throughout da Horde, my love for you only grew. _Deathwing, Pandaria and the fall of Garrosh_ … it was all you, Sahris. I intended to approach you sooner but during war was not da best time and I promised meself da second it’d be over, I would make you mine.”

 

“I…” My mouth was parched at this candid revelation. How does one even respond to such an admission or find a way to answer? “ _Chief…_

 

“No more of dat.” He silenced me with another kiss and gave me a firm look. “I am not your Warchief, not here, nor ever. **To** you and **only** you, I am Vol’jin.” The 8 foot hulk of solid Troll engulfed my body and held me tight in his chest, nipping at my alabaster column. “ **Say it** , Sahris.” I mewled at his biting and showed him more of my skin, his tusks perfectly crowding my neck in its embrace. “ **_Say my name_ **.” He grabbed my bowed legs and wrapped them securely around his waist and thrusted hard.

 

The wind was knocked right out of my lungs and I choked, my arms surging forward for his neck and held on for dear life as he mercilessly pounded away at my hole. I couldn’t think, all I could do was feel. “Ah-! V- **_Vol’jin_ ** _nn_ …!”I threw my head back and screamed. Vol’jin smirked against my flesh and roared, all reservations abandoned, victorious, and bucked violently. He quickly discovered my sweet spot and began his assault, hitting dead on target each time and I screamed his name as a desperate prayer.

 

_I promised him my loyalty as his cock took me. I recited my oath of the Horde as his hands wandered and teased my yielding body. I howled his name as he unraveled every fiber of my being and made me come undone._

 

Vol’jin spared a paw and coaxed my painful weeping manhood to sweet release. My throat was running raw and his incessant ramming was still so good, all that I could muster were soft pleas for him to never stop. “Mmm… I’m so close, Sahris…” He thundered, picking up the pace and taking deeper plunges. I was too- felt another load bubbling up inside me that only he could provide my release.

 

“I want you… Vol’jin…” I moaned with pleading eyes. “All of it- inside me…” He was losing the battle at the sound of my pleas. “ **Fill me up!** ” He howled and bruised my hips as he powerfully bucked one last time, emptying himself completely and filling me to the brim with his seed.

 

Our combined orgasms went on for several more seconds, all our tensions leaving our bodies in those wonderful, ecstasy filled moments, and our orgasms dying down and my blue lover collapsing into my chest. We lay there, in each other’s loving embrace whilst taking in the post-coital high. I looked up to see my Warch- no - Vol’jin’s face. He looked at me and smiled, and I didn’t look away from the locked contact.

 

His eyes were soft and _loving_ , such a stark contrast than the fear-inducing tremors of our first meeting that struck my core. I managed to pull myself up so I could lock lips with my cobalt courter, whispering, _“I love you.”_

 

_“I’ll never -_

_And give love;_

_And get love.”_

 

The things I didn’t think I was capable of; impossible things; things I didn’t think I deserved; I got them all in a century and one night. And the things that were left unsaid but were tacitly understood, that I still had forever and a day that he would patiently await to hear from my own mouth.

  
_I bound my life to his when he kissed me. I would give him my love to him as we became one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, notes! Actually, these ** : Noah took the reins of control and typed out shit that I didn't think quite was in Sahris's character so those parts have been omitted but lucky ducky fuckies, I'll release an un-omitted version soon so yeah, more fuckies. I watch in bated breath when he types out shit, it gets me wet, and I don't have the darkest bleakest heart to outright cut out what he wrote to me. <3 :) 
> 
> So yeah, alternate version coming soon! 
> 
> Oh and I quoted "Bang Bang You're Dead" lines at the end, which I think is a little coincidentally ironic because I wrote this fic a year ago when I was in the BBYD production. Funny how life is, isn't it?
> 
> Also, funny how with everything I write, a JKR horcrux gets lodged into the script. Yeah, muh fantasies be cumming to life! :D Love you Nobo, love you AOL, goodnight!


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